Picking Berries

Blackberries
Originally uploaded by Pentax Penny

Today was sweet. We went blackberry picking, inspired by Peps friend Seano, who showed up for a visit with plum fingers and a bucket of sweetness last week. The next morning, the Fox and I had strawberries and blackberries and Greek yogurt for breakfast, and if there is a higher expression of summer lovin’, I don’t know what it is.

So, today we went blackberry picking. It’s funny how I thought I’d go when/if I found a good patch, But when the time was right, all we had to do was head out the door with some buckets. FF had on a long sleeve shirt and pants, a happy accident that resulted from the fact we had spent the nap wake up searching for the missing piece to a broken matchbox fire truck. This thing, this playground find with its 3 pieces, has been a favorite toy. “Can Mama fix it?’ and then I fit the pieces back together. Hand it to him. Joy. It falls apart. More joy, because now I can “fix it” again.

And today we lost the big piece somewhere between the living room and his room – even though the house is really not that messy right now, especially considering the fact that we are in a week before a deadline, which is always the height of disorder.

Anyway, we lost the ting right before the nap, which could have been a nightmare scenario of refusing to sleep until we found it. But we looked for a while and then I said, “Let’s read Max,” (Where the Wild Things Are is once again in favor.) Said, “We’ll look for the big piece after your nap,” and he went for it. And the first words when he woke up were “Can Mama find the big piece of the fire truck?”

Sometimes I look back on FF’s babyhood and see everything I was doing wrong. How I was so uncomfortable being both so in love and so unproductive at the same time. Seems so obvious to me now, that I could have let go and enjoyed a lot more.

But today, I’ll give myself –and M—some credit. We stayed in the moment. We did the right thing for today. It’s such a tiny piece of plastic. It would have been easy to try and blow it off. I said “Yes, we are going to look for it right now because I promised and because I know it’s important to you.” And when I said that his face lit up so big. I think he wasn’t sure I was really going to do it. And we started looking, even though we had wanted to go for a walk.

After an hour, I opened the front door to do something and FF shot outside and we took the chance. M went with him. I grabbed the farmer’s market basket, a bucket, a couple of little Tupperware bowls. Remembered to bring Jack the dog, forgot gloves and shears. Next time. We walked to the nearby road with a patch of blackberry hillside. This is perfect activity for Forest. Outside, physical, together. Reaching and looking and finding. Grabbling and plucking and talking. M and I pick the high ones and plop them into his bowl. Eventually we manage to persuade him to dump his bowl into the big one by promising to give him more right away. And he believes us.

The long canes pluck at the skirt of my cotton dress, tangle in the ankles of FF pants. And once we start looking, we keep finding. A neighbor’s neglected side door, the alley by the house for sale. At every patch I put Jack in a down stay and begin. Once of the nicest things about picking berries is losing track of time: Reaching up on tip toes, seeing another cluster, reaching farther. The smell of blackberry juice and sun. Careful reaching around thorns, not careful enough, the sound and a tug as they catch they my dress again. The soft feel of the ripe berries, the hard feel of the unripe. Did I mention the smell? Sweet, sweet. Forest quiet with focus. A blackberry for Jack as a reward for patient waiting. Happy dog. Happy Forest. Happy us.

We came home with a giant bowl of berries, enough for fridge and freezer. The fire truck is forgotten for now.